Bugger All for Christmas
by Jo Z. Pierce
Summary: Blackadder IV, Set preseries. It's Christmas Eve, 1916, on the front lines. Baldrick trims a tree, the General has a new plan to win the war, and Blackadder runs some manuevers with Darling. Warning:BlackadderDarling SLASH. Chapter 2 borderline M rated
1. Chapter 1: The Front Lines

Originally written for the 2006 Yuletide Rare Fandom fiction Challenge. There have been some slight revisions.

I do not own Blackadder, nor any of it's characters. I make no profit...

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**WARNING!**

Blackadder/Darling Slash lies ahead. If you don't want to read it, turn back now.

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**Bugger All For Christmas**

_**Part I: The Front Lines**_

_Christmas Eve, 1916_

"Baldrick, what on earth are you doing?" asked the dark-haired captain.

Captain Edmund Blackadder looked up from the table and glared at the scruffy private as he scavenged through wooden boxes perched on the makeshift shelves. It wasn't the first time the captain was annoyed by the mindless busy work of one Private S. Baldrick.

Blackadder rubbed his gloved hands together, trying to get warm. He tried to ignore Baldrick, however, it was futile. Aside from the pungent smells emanating from the soldier's unkept uniform, there were the scuffling footsteps, the clattering noises, and the off-tuned humming of sickly sweet Christmas carols.

It was more than the captain could stand.

The captain restated the simple question. "Baldrick, I'll ask you again. What on God's earth are doing?"

"I'm getting ready for Crimble, Captain," the soldier replied, almost lyrically. His words were naive, hopeful and innocent. Or perhaps they were simply vapid and vacuous. The captain could not decide.

"You're gtting ready for Christmas, by rifling through my personal belongings?"

"I'm sorry sir," Baldrick replied, stuffing a few unidentifiable objects into his pockets. "I was looking for snow."

There was a noticeable pause.

"Snow." Blackadder repeated. "You are looking for snow . . . In my toiletry case . . ."

"Yes, sir."

"Why?" the captain questioned, calmly and rationally. "Do you think my toothbrush maintains it's own independent weather system?"

Baldrick turned to look at his commanding officer, with a dazed and confused look on his face.

"Oh, never mind, Baldrick. How can I explain nature to one of Mother Nature's own inexplicable wonders?" After a deep sigh, the captain continued. "Why were you looking for snow in those boxes?"

"Oh, no sir. Not real snow! I was just looking for white, fluffy things."

"Like what, a rabbit?" the captain asked, sarcastically.

"Do you have one?"

The captain rolled his eyes. "Baldrick, you have exactly three seconds to explain yourself, before I decide to check for snow in another equally improbable place: the innards of one Private S. Baldrick."

"How would you do that, sir?"

"Pass me a spoon, and you will see. The boxes?"

"Oh, right sir. I need decorations for the tree... and snow... And these white things look like snow."

"Oh, God . . ." The captain shook his head.

"We have to get ready for father Christmas! For when he comes down the chimney tonight!"

"Baldrick," the captain responded, growing annoyed. "Do you see a chimney anywhere in the trenches?"

"No, sir. But if I ask Father Christmas to bring one, I bet he would!"

"Private, don't you find it a bit ironic that you're putting up a Christmas tree? While you and I, in service of King and Country, do battle against Harry the Hun, you are participating in a time-honored tradition brought to England by none other than that German sausage, Prince Albert."

"I-ron-ic . . ." the scruffy soldier repeated, over enunciating each syllable.

"Oh, why do I bother?"

"But Captain Blackadder, if we don't put up a Crimble Tree, how will Father Christmas know where to find us?"

"Baldrick, did it ever occur to you that the last thing we need on Christmas Eve is a fat German climbing down into the trenches, coming into our bunker in the middle of the night, sneaking up on us, and leaving us all a little surprise while we're asleep!"

"Happy Christmas Eve!" shouted Lieutenant the Honourable George St. Barleigh, as he walked through the makeshift threshold into the bunker. The Lieutenant - dashing, tall, and amusingly awkward - joined the other two soldiers standing around the captain's table.

"Oh God. Not you, too?" Blackadder asked, rolling his eyes.

"It seems that Captain Blackadder is not interested in celebrating Christmas this year. And he doesn't want a tree" Baldrick said, looking up to the Lieutenant, and breaking the news as if it were some sort of state secret.

"Celebrations? Why on earth should I be celebrating?" Blackadder stood up, angry and amazed at the two other men. "Instead of a Christmas Goose with all the trimmings, what can we look forward to? The delicious meal options of Chez Baldrick? What's on the menu this year for Christmas tea?"

"Rat roast..."

The captain pointed to the private, and shook his head and finger. "You see? Exactly what I mean!"

Moving away from the table, he began to pace back and forth through the room.

"Instead of a choir singing Silent Night, we get to listen to the rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns, performed by none other than Harry Hun's Harmonica Band!" The officer was visibly growing annoyed and agitated, his arms moving excitedly as he spoke.

"Oh, come now, Captain!" George pressed on. "Where's your Christmas Spirit?"

"Christmas Spirit?" The captain glared at the Lieutenant, then returned to his seat, tired of his own theatrics. "If we're lucky, we won't all become Christmas Spirits this year."

"Oh, tut!"

"Any moment, I'll receive the call from Field Marshall Haig, offering his typical holiday cheer. What will it be this year? Perhaps he'll order up another good game of football across no man's land. Only this time, it won't be a friendly little game, will it?"

"Well," George shrugged "I for one think it's a jolly good idea to have a Christmas tree!"

"I do too!" Baldrick chimed in.

"Might I remind you both of one tiny little problem?"

"And what's that, Captain Blackadder?" George asked.

"We. Have. No. Trees." Each word was spoken slowly, to emphasize the point.

"We do too, sir," Baldrick offered, proud that he knew something that the captain did not.

"Baldrick, right now, the nearest trees are 35 miles behind the front lines. Surely, any timber between here and the enemy has gone up in flames, long long ago."

"But sir, we do have a tree!"

Baldrick turned and walks out the door. Moments later, he returned, carrying a trench climbing ladder.

"What is that, Baldrick?"

"A Crimble Tree."

"No it's not, Baldrick. It's a ladder. Although I can understand the confusion. Both made out of wood . . .Other than that, I couldn't imagine to guess."

"I have to agree with the Captain, Balders," George said, shaking his head. "That is, indeed, a ladder."

"Right now it's a ladder," the small soldier said. "But with a few decorations, and some Christmas snow - courtesy of the Captain's toilet - it will be the loveliest tree on the front lines."

"No doubt illuminated by holiday flares across the horizon," Blackadder mumbled.

Baldrick tried to navigate through the bunker. The ladder rested clumsily on his shoulders. Both the Lieutenant and the Captain ducked, avoiding its blow after several awkward swings. Baldrick clumsily maneuvered the ladder until he could lean it against a wall. Then, pulling strips and clumps of white from out of his pockets, he began to decorate the wooden "tree." Amazed, the officers walked across the bunker to take a closer look.

Upon closer inspection, the decorations - the white snow - were an odd assortment of torn handkerchiefs, bandages, plasters, cotton buds, and strips of gauze, no doubt scavenged from dozens of toiletry boxes and first aid kits. The occasional pieces of tin, fashioned from cans of unknown origin, were suspended from wires and hung from the rungs. A piece of twisted barbed wire was carefully woven through the rungs like wicked garland.

Upon completion, the officers stepped back. Heads tilted to the side, the two crossed their chests with their left arms, resting chins in gloved right hands as they contemplated Baldrick's Christmas creation.

"I thought it would give the place a festive look," Baldrick declared. "For when Father Christmas comes."

Without missing a beat, Blackadder responded "You think Father Christmas will think -Peace on Earth, Good Will Towards Men- when he sees a bunch of plasters and barbed wire on a ladder, do you?"

"I do!"

"Excellent," Blackadder answered, not surprised. "Just what we need now. A Sadistic Santa.

All right, Baldrick. You can have your tree."

"Hurrah!" cheered Baldrick, accompanied by another Hurrah from the Lieutenant.

"Well, why don't we put our presents under the tree!" George added, excited as a schoolboy.

"Presents?" Blackadder asked, uncomfortable.

"Yes. Prezzies from home," Baldrick responded, nostalgia dripping from his words.

"Oh, dear sweet home!" George cried, blubbering.

"Are you two done?" Blackadder asked, impatiently.

"Well, my mum sent me something. And, yes, I do think there was something from Uncle Bertie. Baldrick, wanna give us a hand?"

"Which one?"

With a deep sigh, Blackadder waived Baldrick out. "Oh, just go help the lieutenant . . ."

A few moments later, George and Baldrick returned with several large packages, each wrapped in bright red and green papers, each tied with fancy ribbon. Blackadder sat up in his chair, in shock and surprise.

"George, all of those are for you?"

"Well, yes, they are," George replied, peaking out from behind the top box. "You know, it's a bit embarrassing, really, with so many gifts from home."

"I should say so!" Blackadder shifted uncomfortably in his seat, watching as the two others piled packages around the ladder.

"And I have a prezzie from my mum, too," Baldrick added, as he walked over to a corner shelf and pulled out a very small package, cradling it in his hand.

"And what about you, captain." George asked, innocently. "Anything from home?"

"I'm afraid not, George, except for that dreadful Christmas letter. Same thing, really, every year. Dearest Edmund. We wish you a Happy Christmas. Don't die. Signed, your adoring mother . . ."

George looked at his commanding officer, with sympathy and concern. "Oh. Well, right then. You can have one of my packages. I'm sure mater won't mind one bit!"

"And you can have mine, too, Captain." Baldrick added.

"Baldrick?"

"Yeah, it's the thought that counts. And every year it's the same thought, ain't it? Mum sends me a tiiiiiiny plum pudding, to remind me of home." With that, Baldrick held out the wet and greasy package - clumsily wrapped - handing it to the Captain. Blackadder, highly skeptical, recoiled.

"Well, yes. I know that I know the answer to this already, but one must ask. Is she a good cook?"

Proudly, the private smiled and said "She taught me everything I know . . ."

"Right! I think, with all due respects to your mother, her cookbook, and the good spirits of Christmas Present and Christmas Future, I will go with option three: Christmas Pass."

"Captain?"

"Yes, just looking at that package, Baldrick, an old Christmas motto comes to mind: It is far better to abstain, than to receive."

"Are you sure that's how it goes, Captain?" George asked, a confused look on his thin face.

"Quite sure, George," the captain replied, cautiously eyeing the package. "No, this year, it's bugger all for Christmas for yours truly, Edmund Blackadder."

"Well, there was that package that General Melchett sent over earlier today."

"What?"

"Yes, Melchett's driver dropped off a package. And it's addressed to you!" George looked around; spotting something near the door, he ran over and brought Blackadder black a small package, wrapped in brown paper, and tied with twine.

"Shall we open it?" he asked, shaking it violently in his hand.

"Oh, I don't know," the captain responded, completely unenthusiastic. Finally, he grabbed it out of George's hand, simply to save the contents from the seismic activity of George's arm.

"Oh, go on, now! Aren't you a little bit curious?"

"What? And ruin the surprise? Deny myself the hours and hours of waiting? The anticipation, the tense build up, followed by the amazing let down?"

"Look!" Baldrick pointed at the package. "There's a little card!"

Blackadder, eyebrows raised, removed the card from between the twine. "To Captain Edmund Blackadder. For Christmas, I decided to give your men an extra ration for Christmas tea."

"Hurray!!" Baldrick cried out, on behalf of enlisted men everywhere.

"I wouldn't get too excited, Private."

"Oh, alright then . . . hurray . . ." Baldrick whispered in a soft voice. Blackadder shot a nasty look at the private while tearing open the small package. Once open, the three men looked inside.

"Hmmm . . . Yes, well, is that it?" George asked, again with a slightly confused look. His forehead wrinkled, and his eyebrows were scrunched together.

"Well, he did say An Extra Ration, Lieutenant." Blackadder said, with a slight chuckle. "One would have hoped that the General would not have been quite so literal. Baldrick, distribute this amongst the men." Thrusting the box into Baldricks hands, the box crumbled slightly.

"Distribute it amongst the men?"

"Yes, Baldrick. That's what I said."

"All of it, sir?"

"Yes, all of it. You can probably split the tin of sardines between two regiments, if you're careful about it. Now off you go!"

Baldrick turned and scuffled out of the bunker, leaving the officers alone.

"Well George, let's see if we can make it through Christmas Eve without orders to go over the top."

"Do you really think they'd send the order down?" George asked, wide eyed and surprised.

With that, the phone rang. Blackadder, with dark brown eyebrows raised and lips pursed, looked back at his Lieutenant. Again, Blackadder pointed his finger and nodded his head. George looked on in surprise, amazed at the uncanny sense of timing.

The phone rang a second time, and Blackadder answered.

"North Pole! Yes, it's Blackadder, newly appointed to elf." Ear to phone, the captain rolled his eyes and nodded his head, as he listened to the voice on the other end.

"Yes . . . Yes . . . Yes . . .We got the package. Tell the General it was most thoughtful. No, no . . . Tell him I don't think it was too extravagant. No . . . No . . . I don't think the masses will be asking for an extra ration every day. I am quite sure he has not spoiled them . . . Well, alright, Darling . . . tell him I'll be right there."

"General Melchett's office?" George asked, pleased with himself at following the gist of the conversation.

"Very good, Lieutenant. Perhaps you should request a transfer to intelligence."

"Do you think so, sir? You don't think I'd be out of my element with the intelligentsia?"

"No, George. I am sure of it," Blackadder gathered up a few things, buttoned up his coat, and headed for the door. "While I'm at HQ, George, and I hate to say this, you're in charge."

"Really! Absolutely spiffing!!"

"Do us a favor, Lieutenant. Don't surrender while I'm gone."

"Right! Captain, if you are going to Headquarters anyway, maybe you can bring us back a real tree!"

"Of course I can't, George. I couldn't ruin the moment and upstage Baldrick's Christmas Ladder . . ."

_-continued-_


	2. Chapter 2: Headquarters

**Part II: Headquarters**

It was already dark when Captain Blackadder arrived at Headquarters. Automatically, he headed straight for the office of General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett. Blackadder had entered the room dozens of times before, yet he would never have recognized it this Christmas Eve. As Blackadder opened the door, he was pummeled by dozens of boxes spilling out into the hall.

Almost completely filling the room, and piled up nearly to the ceiling were thousands and thousands of gifts. The room looked like a pool filled with cube shaped bubbles. Each box was splendid, covered in red or green or gold wrapping paper, and tied with bright silky bows. And each box was six inches by six inches, cubed.

"Blackadder, is that you?" Although muffled, the voice was clearly General Melchett's assistant, Captain Kevin Darling.

"Yes, Darling! It's me!"

"Come in, Blackadder."

"How?" Blackadder stared at the boxes forming a wall in front of him.

"Just dive right in! Come on!"

As Blackadder plunged himself into the room, he cried out "Bloody hell!" Captain Darling heard his approach, his exclamation, then the sound of boxes falling and tumbling.

"Darling? Where are you?"

"At my desk. Just head towards my voice."

"Well then speak up. It's pretty hard getting in, you know. Should I reach around, Darling?" Although Blackadder could not see his face, he knew his words would upset his fellow Captain, and make him nervous. Edmund imagined the captain's eye twitching, just hearing him speak. He secretly enjoyed playing this little game with the Kevin Darling, knowing the play on his words with his surname always made the soldier uneasy.

"This way, towards the back" Captain Darling replied, uncomfortably. "Just stop when you come up to something hard . . ."

"Excuse me?"

"The desk, Blackadder! The desk!"

"What is this madness!?" Blackadder yelled in a muffled voice, as he pushed his way through the pool of presents. He quickly noticed, however, that the boxes were exceptionally light, as if they were all empty.

He bumped against the desk before he realized it was there.

Several boxes in front of Blackadder's face was brushed aside, revealing Captain Kevin's Darling's face dangerously close to his own.

"Well, there you are. I've finally found you. Happy Christmas, Darling," Blackadder said, in a low voice, staring at his favorite foil and harshest critic. Kevin squinted his eyes, and slightly snarled as he glared back at Edmund for a long moment. Breaking the silence, but not eye contact, he offered a simple reply: "The General is waiting for you . . .you'll love this one, Captain Blackadder."

A loud, booming voice called out, from beyond a pile of boxes. "Darling! Has he arrived?"

There was a brief pause, but with a sudden head jerk, Darling turned his head towards the voice.

"Yes, sir. He's just arrived!"

"Gooo-ooood!" the voice sang out. The voice and its strong but lyrical quality were unmistakably General Melchett's. "Has he seen our secret weapon yet?"

"Yes, sir. How could he miss it?"

Although enveloped in boxes, Blackadder tried to turn his head and look around at. There was nothing but the empty boxes.

"Secret Weapon?" he asked, without a response.

Boxes shifted, as the General pushed his way through the room towards the two Captains. His face finally emerged through another wall of presents.

"Blackadder! Good! You're here! I have a top secret mission, and I need your help!"

"A top-secret mission? And . . . these boxes are our secret weapon?"

"Very goooood, Blackadder!"

"I see. And what will we do, sir? Kill our enemies with presents?

"Exxxactly!!" the General shouted, proud of both his ingenuity, and the keen observation of the Captain. Blackadder turned to look at Darling. One eyebrow raised, Darling was, for the first time that Blackadder had noticed, looking for some confirmation that his commanding officer was a bit off.

"Brilliant," Blackadder said, sarcastically. "Giving gifts has now become the latest form of warfare. Never has such a tactic been attempted since the last great Pot-latch of the Americas. Let me guess, are we going to strangle the Kaiser with a new pair of mittens?"

Blackadder looked at the General, and was relieved that his sarcasm was apparently lost on him. He made a quick glance to Darling, and quickly caught a subtle smirk. As soon as Darling realized that he had been spotted, his smirk transformed into a snarl.

"So, that's how it is," Edmund thought, now biting the inside of his lip. Captain Darling had a sense of humor. Blackadder was amazed. Now, the challenge was to make him laugh out loud.

The challenge was overpowering, overwhelming, and completely irresistible.

He bit down on his tongue. It was all he could do to keep from smiling himself. Blackadder took great pleasure in this teasing game that he played back and forth with Darling. It was, if he ever dared to think about it, downright flirtatious.

"General," Blackadder ventured, "Just how are we going to use these empty boxes as weapons against the Germans."

"Good question, Blackadder!" Melchett, tried to create his presence in the room, but found himself instead only smothered by boxes falling against him. "We are going to use an ancient technique against our enemy! Have you ever heard of the Trojan Horse?"

"Of course, sir."

"Well, Blackadder, in this room, you are looking at thousands and thousands of little Trojan Horses!"

Realizing the absurdity of the situation, Blackadder bit down on his tongue.

"Are you saying we are going to squeeze a few hundred soldiers inside each little box? Then after leaving them squeezed together for a few hours, we should unleash them on the enemy during the night?" Edmund's face remained stern and stoic.

Darling's reaction was both equal and opposite. Fighting back the urge to laugh, he could not contain a quivering smirk. Feeling a chuckle rising in his gut, he tried to contain himself. However, it only made matters worse. As hard as he tried to resist, the joke slipped past his lips.

"With that plan, sir, the enemy should surely be buggered . . ."

"Darling!?" the General scolded.

"I'm sorry, general." Darling apologized, as he again tried not to laugh. He grabbed at a few boxes nearest to him, and crushed them in his hands in a futile attempt to refocus his attention.

Blackadder had never really seen Darling act this way. He was almost silly. Although he tried to remain stoic and firm, he was enjoying the moment immensely. Perhaps it was the lunacy of standing in a room filled with tiny empty boxes, piled 3 meters high. Or perhaps he finally reconsidered how the laws of physics intersected with the laws of nature. Maybe it was true, that opposites did attract. Perhaps Blackadder had found an playmate in his favorite foil.

"Right . . ." the General continued. "As you know, our flying Aces are the finest pilots in the skies. But what they don't have is the element of surprise . . ."

"Riiiiight . . . ?" Blackadder and Darling sang together as they tried to follow along.

"Well, what is the biggest surprise one could get at Christmas?"

"An elephant in one's trousers?"

Darling chuckled at Blackadder's response.

"Yeeees, that would be a surprise, Blackadder. Very good. Darling, write that down." Darling, left eyebrow raised, looked suspiciously at the General, who continued to explain.

"But what I had in mind was a sneak attack, tomorrow morning. Christmas Day! We send our Aces over enemy lines, and have them drop these boxes from their planes! Won't Gerry be surprised!"

Kevin and Edmund looked at each other, wide eyed. They tried to make sure their jaws did not gape open.

"Soooo, you are suggesting that we drop thousands of empty boxes into enemy territory, and that will end the war?" Blackadder finally asked, trying to not sound patronizing to the general.

"No Blackadder! The boxes won't be empty!! How thick can you be?"

"Of course not." the dark haired captain replied. "We'll stuff them with little presents? Some Belgian chocolates, perhaps?"

"Neeeeeeey! Hand grenades!"

"Hand grenades?"

"Yeeeeesssss! Hand grenades! We'll stuff one in each box, then tie the ribbons to the pins. Then when Gerry picks up one of these special presents on Christmas morning and opens it, he'll be blown to pieces!"

"And you don't think he'll be suspicious?"

"Why should he be? There's nothing shocking about presents on Christmas morning?"

"Right. And let me guess at the rest." Blackadder's sarcasm took hold of him. "To take the Germans utterly by surprise, we are going to send the entire squadron over enemy territory, planes painted up like reindeer and a sleigh. And for that added touch, we'll quickly make up new uniforms. Lots of green elf uniforms, and perhaps one in red, with nice, fluffy white trim."

Blackadder looked at Darling, who was trying to fight back a laugh.

"Yes, Blackadder. But let's save the red suit for Flasheart," Darling added, fighting back a smile.

"Good, Blackadder, that's not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all! Write that down, Darling."

"Glad I could be of assistance."

"Good Blackadder! Because this is where you come in! I need you to take these presents back to your men. We need someone to put the grenades in the boxes. Right? So tonight, you and all your men will put the hand grenades in the boxes, ready for a drop tomorrow morning."

"Sir?" Edmund questioned.

"Yes, you and your men. And you can take Darling, too, to help!"

"Me, sir?" Darling piped in.

"Now, get on it, you two. I want you both to be on the job, immediately!" Blackadder shot a quick glance at Darling, hoping the double entendre was lost on him. It wasn't.

"Darling, is there something wrong with your eye?" Blackadder asked. Darling shot back at him a cold stare from a twitching eye.

"Sir, if I may . . ." Darling started.

"And I don't want to hear another word! I want to read about our great victory tomorrow morning in the papers!" Melchett, arms flailing in a sea of boxes, turned and made his way towards the door.

"Right! I am off!" Melchett cried.

"Indeed, you are, sir," Blackadder responded, feigning a quick salute as the General swam away.

When the general was gone, Blackadder looked up at Darling, scratched his head, and simply stated "He's mad."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But how do you suppose we're going to get out of this one?" Darling asked.

"Buggered if I know, Darling." The comment was acknowledged with another snarl, and another twitch.

"Look, Blackadder. There is no way we can seriously stuff all these boxes with hand grenades and send them over enemy lines. It's a stupid plan."

"Of course it is, Darling! But what do you suggest? We take the boxes and throw them in the fire?"

"No, of course not. But Melchett will want to see them shipped off to your men. We have to get them out of here, then come up with a plan later."

"You're right, Darling. Perhaps we can simply send them off with a few drivers? With orders to dispose of them somewhere . . . anywhere!"

"Then what do we tell Melchett when he asks about the campaign, Blackadder?"

"We can say it was a smashing success! Not one of our Flying Aces was shot down in combat!"

"It'll never work."

"Maybe not, but if we don't get these boxes out of here, it'll be the end of the line."

"We'll face the firing squad together."

"No we won't, Darling . . . I'll blame it all on you." Blackadder smiled at his accomplice, as they looked around the room and the enormity of the project. "So, you are with me?

"It seems I have no choice. Let's call some drivers."

Kevin, looked for a way around his desk. Boxes piled high, he decided to go over the desk, instead of fight his way around. Fighting back some falling boxes, Darling stepped on his chair, then onto the desk. Blackadder turned around just in time to find himself looking up at Darling's crotch. A bit startled, he jumped back.

"Bloody hell, Darling! Would you watch where you put that!"

"What?"

"Nevermind. Just get down."

Unsure where down was, Darling kicked at some boxes, to see if there was a safe descent. Expecting to put his foot on the ground, however, his foot landed on a chair, taking him by surprise, and leaving him off balance. Unable to hold himself up, he began to fall towards Blackadder. The empty boxes offered some resistance, making the fall less harsh. Nevertheless, falling towards the ground, his arms flailed as he tried to grab at anything solid. Edmund was pulled down by Kevin, and found himself lying on the floor, underneath him. As they landed, they heard the crunch of cardboard boxes crumbled underneath the weight of their bodies. The pile of tiny boxes moved with them, covering the two of them like a blanket.

"Darling! What the bloody hell are you doing?" Edmund shouted, as Kevin's body fell against his.

"I'm sorry! I couldn't see the chair. It was..."

" . . .covered in boxes." Blackadder said, trying to calm down. "Yes, I know. Well, at least all these bloody boxes broke our fall."

The two captains suddenly realized what an odd position they had found themselves in. Completely hidden by a thousand tiny packages, Edmund lay on the ground, with Kevin Darling lying on top of him. Their bodies, pressed up against each other, felt unusually reassuring.

Blackadder finally opened with a characteristically sarcastic remark, breaking the silence after a few awkward moments on the ground. "Darling, you know I prefer be on top?"

Darling looked down at the officer, a bit confused. Then, suddenly, as he reconciled the position with the remark, his eyes opened wide in shock.

"What?"

"Well, I knew I asked for bugger all for Christmas, but I didn't think Father Christmas would take me quite so literally." Blackadder, still sarcastic, still calmly lying still, realized that buried under the mounds of boxes, they were completely hidden.

Finally, after a long pause spent looking up at Kevin still lying on top of him, Edmund added:

"I am joking, Darling."

"Of course, Blackadder."

"I'm just glad these boxes are empty, Darling. If they were already filled with the hand grenades, we'd have gone out . . . in one . . . big . . ."

Edmund's words slowed, until he finally stopped himself, and looked up at his fellow officer.

" . . .in one big bang?" the captain on top responded, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh god . . ." Blackadder moaned, rolling his eyes, and tilting his head to the side. It wasn't an angry response. Instead, it was more of an annoyance, as he realized that the banter was beginning to turn him on. "You realize that this could go very wrong, very very quickly."

Kevin, realizing that the man underneath him was filled with a few self doubts, decided to press on. "Or it could go very very right."

"Are you suggesting that we . . . run some maneuvers?"

"Who would know, Blackadder?"

Again, the dark-haired captain was surprised by his own inability to react. Typically, such banter would have him on the defensive. Instead, he felt that strange, pleasant feeling...

Curiosity overwhelmed him, as he gently raised his lower half up an inch, pressing up against Darling. Taking it as a signal, Darling offered a surprised smile in return, followed by an equal an opposite reaction, as he pressed his entire body weight on the man below him.

"This is most unusual, Darling."

"Quite."

"Perhaps this has gone far enough?" Blackadder questioned, for the first time unsure of his own words. Both men, hearts beating quickly, stared at each other.

"It would only take a minute. And no one would see . . ."

"Are you suggesting I bite the pillow for you, Darling?"

"Well, actually, it would be more like biting a box." The two men stared at each other a moment longer, their arousal growing more irresistible.

"Well, a quick shag never hurt anyone, now has it?"

"So, you're saying you do prefer to be on top then?"

"Right . . ."

Without a moment's hesitation, a volcano of boxes flew up into the air, as the two men quickly scurried into new positions underneath.

"Right then, Darling. Bums out, trousers down, and brace yourself . . . before I change my mind."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Well, it's too late now, Darling. . . Wait for it!" Edmund ordered, in a whispering shout.

The piles of boxes shifted from the erratic movement underneath. From above, all that was visible were boxes shifting and twisting and twirling violently.

After a few minutes, the movement stopped.

"Right," Blackadder finally said, in a high voice, accompanied by a muffled zip - barely audible. Clearing his throat, and straightening his shirt, he continued.

Neither men looked at each other, despite all that they had done just a moment before. Instead, they found themselves trying to navigate their way through a room full of boxes.

"Now then, Dar . . . eh, Captain. What about all these boxes?"

"I think you'll find a few on the bottom have been ruined."

_-continued-_


	3. Chapter 3: Back at the Front

**Part III: Back at the Front**

The ride back from HQ was silent. Blackadder all but ignored Darling, and never even allowed their eyes to meet. Blackadder, intent on hiding their liaison forever, found it easier to completely block Darling out.

Blackadder had no intentions of showing a new attitude towards Darling, or changing his demeanor. After all, what happened at HQ was just a desperate grab at intimacy in the midst of a living hell, wasn't it? "Yes, that is it," Blackadder thought to himself. "It meant nothing. Nothing has changed."

As soon as they arrived back at the front line, Blackadder headed straight to his bunker. As he walked through the makeshift threshold of his bunker, Kevin Darling following several steps behind. Inside, George was seated at a table, stringing up cotton balls with a thread and needles. Seeing the two captains entering the room, he rose to attention, and offered an enthusiastic salute.

"Back from Headquarters already, Captain Blackadder?"

"Yes, and I brought a nice big Christmas Cracker with me." Blackadder said, sarcastically, waiving at the captain behind him.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of a joke, Blackadder?" Darling asked, defensively.

"Not at all." Blackadder sat down, put his feet up, and completely ignored Darling, as he stood by the door.

At that moment, Private Baldrick raced through the door. "Sirs! Sirs! The strangest thing happened, sir." Baldrick said, excited. "All these lorries just drove up. And each one is carrying millions and millions of little presents. Maybe they are for us!"

"Well, this is turning out to be a grand Christmas, after all!" George exclaimed, motioning towards the two captains. "Perhaps Baldrick should put another rat on the fire for tomorrow's tea!"

"Nevermind," Blackadder snapped. "We already have one rat too many."

"That's ok, Lieutenant," Darling added, snarling at Blackadder, the twitch coming back to his eye. "I have no plans on staying."

"Good . . ." Blackadder responded, from across the room.

"Oh, but Captain Darling, do stay!" George insisted. "Look! We have a Christmas ladder, and presents for everyone . . ."

"Oh?" Darling asked, sneering in the direction of Blackadder, who appeared completely disinterested in the whole situation, and instead sat and cleaned out some dirt from underneath his fingernails. "And what did Captain Blackadder get this year?"

"Well, nothing, really," George responded, offering a sad look to his Commanding Officer.

"So, Captain Blackadder got bugger all for Christmas, this year, eh? Not surprised at all." Darling pressed on, anger and bitterness growing in his voice. Blackadder, again keeping up appearances, brushed the conversation off with a sarcastic response.

"Of course I got presents, Darling! There are a thousand of them out there, in little tiny boxes. Waiting just for me . . ."

George, left out of the loop, was fixated on the presents. "A thousand presents, Captain! That's amazing!"

"Yes, it is. And they are all waiting for Captain Blackadder, aren't they?" Darling purred. "Yes. Well, I suspect he will be able to follow out the General's orders by the morning. Right, Blackadder?"

"You forget, Darling. The General ordered you to help me to carry out those orders."

"I think not. It seems you've have quite enough of me already tonight."

Blackadder finally looked up at Darling, beady eyed and snarling back at him. For the first time, Blackadder realized that he had hurt the captain. Perhaps broke him. And not just physically. Perhaps it would be wrong to treat him this way, or to send him away like this. Yet, there was nothing else he could do.

"Darling, you are in on this too! Melchett ordered you to help me carry out his fool's plan, and we are going to figure out how to get out of this, together!"

"Oh, really? Why would I help you?" he snipped.

Blackadder rose to his feet, and pointed at Darling.

"Whatever happened . . . uh, happens . . . tonight . . . you will be held responsible, too!"

"Oh, will I?" Darling responded, truly believing that Blackadder had drawn the metaphorical line in the sand. "As far as the General knows, I came here only to help your. But if you remember, he did put you in charge. It'll be you at the firing squad . . . Good evening, Blackadder."

The Lieutenant and Private looked on, as the two captains argued across the room. The subordinates were completely oblivious to the subtext and emotions secretly exchanged between their superiors.

Indeed, neither Baldrick nor George, nor anyone else for that matter, would fully understand the true undertones of the sarcasm, the banter, and the jealous self-denials exchanged between Captain Blackadder and Captain Darling over the next year.

"I'm heading back to HQ," Darling said, as he shot Edmund one final glare. His final words, before he went out the door, were spoken slowly, and bitterly. "And I'll make sure to tell Melchett that you insisted that I return, and that you would take care of the entire operation."

As Darling left the bunker, Baldrick approached the remaining captain.

"Sir, what was all that about?"

Blackadder did not reply for a moment. Finally, he sat down, and explained General Melchett's plan to his two subordinates.

"That's a brilliant idea, sir!" George exclaimed, nodding his head along with Baldrick.

"No, it's not, George. It's a terrible idea. It's the worst idea since . . . since . . ."

Somehow, he could not find a sarcastic response. He was simply thinking of Darling. Gazing into space, Edmund Blackadder was completely silent.

"Sir? Sir?" Baldrick finally asked, after watching the captain stare blankly for a few moments. "What shall we do with the boxes out there?"

Blackadder shook his head, and closed his eyes as he responded. "Just pass them out to the men, and let them toss them on their fires, Baldrick. Tell them it's an extra special treat from Headquarters, to go along with their extra ration."

"And what about the General, sir?" George asked, with a concerned look on his face. "What will you tell him?"

"Oh, I don't know. And right now I don't care. I'll just make up some lame excuse in the morning. Right now, I just want to get some sleep." He walked over to the Christmas ladder, and picked at some of the white fluffy bits. George and Baldrick, still confused, decided it was simply best not to ask.

"Right then, Captain," George offered, as he and Baldrick headed for the door. "We'll be back in the morning to open up the prezzies."

"Right." Edmund stared at the ladder some more, deep in thought. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir."

The two soldiers left the captain alone, staring at the Crimble Tree. Not a moment later, Baldrick poked his head back into the bunker.

"Don't worry, sir," Baldrick said, reassuring his commanding officer. "I am sure Father Christmas will come."

"Right."

"He will, don't you worry. But if he doesn't, just remember. There is always next year."

_-Fin-_


End file.
